


Personal Hell

by townshend



Category: Silent Hill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-17
Updated: 2010-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/townshend/pseuds/townshend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for slashthedrabble @ lj, prompt "Heat".</p>
    </blockquote>





	Personal Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Written for slashthedrabble @ lj, prompt "Heat".

There was a heat there, under Walter's skin - when Henry had first had chance to touch him, he'd noticed it. Walter was swinging a bat towards Eileen, and she had cringed, and Henry had reached out, grabbing Walter's wrist just under the coat, clutching his skin there.

And god, it felt... hot.

Henry had expected Walter's skin to be cold and clammy - after all, Walter was _dead_ , wasn't he?

It wasn't until _he_ was dead that Henry realized that cold wasn't always the way it went.

Even now, when Walter would pin him down to re-carve the numbers in his chest (they would almost act as if they were going to _heal_ after a time, scarring up and closing, fading back into his skin, and Walter couldn't have _that_ , of course), Henry could feel the heat - Walter's fingers pressed against his chest, stilling his canvas as his other hand held the knife, and the fire of Henry's own blood rolling down his chest from each fresh wound, the blood trickling down in dark streams that soaked into the bed below.

Death, Henry realized, wasn't cold at all. It was hot. Burning hot.


End file.
